


Sweet dreams are made of these

by robotjellyfish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Langst, Other, all characters are mentioned but pretty much this is pure Lance suffering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 19:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotjellyfish/pseuds/robotjellyfish
Summary: When Lance came out of the healing pod it was to see everyone's backs facing him, when Shiro came out of the healing pod everyone was there for him. That contrast has got to hurt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so this was born from smooshing two angst threads from discord so full props to Castle, who bought to our attention the fact that everyone had their back turned to Lance when he woke up but then everyone was facing Shiro when Shiro woke up, and meli who is responsible for the idea of Lance sleeping in the pod and getting addicted to it (which I'm going to explore more in part 2) This fic is for them thank you for inspiring me.

When Lance first stumbled out of the healing pod to everyone’s backs facing him he hadn’t thought too much about it. Not at first. He’d only just woken up disoriented and confused from a deep dreamless sleep, he wasn’t even sure why they were there or where he was let alone concerned over the fact they weren’t facing him, focused on something else rather than waiting for him to wake from what was basically a medically induced coma. 

The fact they’d been counting seconds on a clock, comparing the one Pidge held to the one Coran had only left Lance confused and thinking that he might be dreaming until he called out to them and Hunk was scooping him up into a crushing hug reminding Lance of the tender state his body had been in just recently, how the last thing he remembered was firing at Sendak and the pain flaring through every fibre of his being, but it seemed he was all better now. Well that was good, but his ribs might be a little sore now. 

From there they filled him in on everything he’d missed, Keith said some nonsense about a bonding moment, and Pidge was a girl. It was a lot to take in and process after recovering from a near death experience so the image of his teammates backs facing him when he woke sank to the back of his mind not to be visited again until later, not until he was alone and the nagging voice of self doubt had had plenty of time to curl around and latch onto the image. 

‘They don’t care. They weren’t even worried about you, a clock was more interesting,’ it mocked him, sneered at him as it brought that image to the forefront of his mind forcing him to relive it again. 

He’d almost died, been caught in a bomb blast protecting someone else and then been put in some alien contraption that would apparently heal him. None of them could have known if it would work, how well it would work, they only had Allura and Coran’s word for it. Instead of concern the first thing he’d been greeted with when he fell out of the pod was the lonely image of everyone backs facing him, cold and uncaring. Further evidence that he wasn’t needed, that they didn’t care. 

The voice nagged at him, taunted him with these thoughts. But that wasn’t right, Lance knew, no he wouldn’t believe the voice so easily because they were his teammates, his allies, his friends. They were all, however reluctantly, in this war together. They’d bonded as a team and were like family now and he was sure none of them would turn their backs on him on purpose, no they had just been a little restless that had to be it. After all they had been waiting for a while for Lance to wake up, to make sure he was ok it was understandable that they would grow restless and need a distraction. Lance didn’t blame them, if he had been in their shoes he was sure he would have done the same. He wouldn’t have been able to sit still for that long, just waiting and waiting, growing more and more worried he would have needed some distraction, something else to focus on. He silenced the voice with excuses and understanding, refusing to believe that they didn’t care. 

He told himself this over and over again that it was nothing. That it was just bad timing and that it didn’t mean anything. He repeated the words to himself trying to drown out the voice that tormented him but it was difficult when he was contending with the lingering image as well. The image chipped away at him more than the nagging words ever could. It lingered just behind his eyes the shadow of it always there when he so much as blinked, wearing away at him slowly and steadily like the constant tide chipping away at a cliff face. 

The image grew stronger and more vivid every time Shiro dismissed him. Every time he fought with Keith. Every time Hunk grew closer to one of the others and further away from him. Every time Pidge sank too deep in her inventions and snapped at him if he tried to help. Every time Allura ignored his advances. Every time Coran was too busy to just talk to him. It wasn’t their fault, he was being unreasonable, he was asking too much of them, Lance knew that, but still it hurt.

And then Shiro got injured, bundled into a pod and Lance was on the outside this time. As he’d thought everyone was worried and on edge a nervous thrum of tension humming around them. They were restless constantly pacing around the pod, watching for any changes but none of them could tear their eyes away, not even Lance who had convinced himself that it was inevitable their attention might drift at some point, that they would need some sort of distraction to stop themselves from worrying too much. That they would need to look away sometimes.

But that wasn’t the case with Shiro in the pod.

His worry for Shiro’s well being and the genuine relief that flooded him when Shiro woke stopped Lance from focusing on it at the time, stopped him from noticing how everyone was facing Shiro’s pod when he woke, surrounding it barely leaving any room for the half conscious man to step out. They surrounded him, stuck close to him, they were there for him.

It was different this time, Lance reasoned finding excuses again to silence the jeering voice. Shiro had been seriously injured, left for a long period of time without treatment and he’d been groaning and muttering while in the pod as if he were having a nightmare. The circumstances were completely different so it was understandable they were all facing Shiro when he woke, Lance included. 

The excuses were enough to silence the voice for a while, prevented him from crumbling until he was alone at least because really there wasn’t any difference in their situations at all. The cruel voice grew soft and patronizing as it laid out the points Lance had been trying to ignore. Yes Shiro had been hurt badly, but so had Lance, and sure Shiro had gone for a long period of time without treatment, but so had Lance. 

The only difference was Shiro’s nightmare and that really wasn’t a big deal was it? The voice questioned. Yes it had been strange and a little worrying but a little bad dream wasn’t that unusual, wasn’t really a big enough reason for them to be so much more worries for Shiro. 

And so all of Lance’s carefully crafted arguments and excuses, all the reasons he gave for them to have their backs turned to him that time fell apart. They weren’t enough to cover the truth any more. The nagging voice of self doubt won. 

That night Lance dreamed of the pod. He ‘woke’ stumbling out of the pod as dazed and confused as the first time. Unlike the reality where he’d felt revived and new, his body instead felt heavy and ached all over. The room he stepped into was dark and cold, not the medical bay of the castle but instead an empty dark void that chilled and unsettled him. Right in front of him, even further away than they had been the first time were his teammates all standing in a line, their backs facing him a cold intimidating wall shutting him out. 

Lance sucked in a sharp breath the cold air sending a stab of pain shooting through his chest. It was just a dream, he knew that already, just a dream. 

“Hey guys what are you all looking at?” he called anyway trying to keep his voice steady ignoring the way it cracked and shook. 

No one answered him. No one turned around. They didn’t even give any sign they’d heard him. Lance swallowed heavily his legs shaking threatening to give out beneath him and though he told himself again and again it was just a dream, that he should just turn away and not give into it he stepped forward and called out to them again hoping. 

“Guys?” He reached out but instead of turning towards him they took a step forward moving further away, their backs still to him, silent and cold.

Lance felt panic crush his chest choking him. He knew it was a dream but he was afraid. They were ignoring him, shutting him out. They were abandoning him. 

“Guys please!” He called out more urgently, calling each of them by name as he tried to rush forward, tried to catch up with them but the air was thick and heavy, it was like walking through mud he couldn’t move fast enough. But his allies, his friends moved on unimpeded getting further and further away from him. 

Lance continued to struggle, tried to reach them even as his limbs grew tired and heavy and he felt a force tugging on him, dragging him back towards the pod. He reached out for them begging them to turn around, begging them not to leave him. 

No one turned around not even as he was dragged back into the pod screaming their names. 

Lance woke with a gasp and a breathless scream his limbs flailing tangling himself up in his covers making himself panic more. He was trapped! He couldn’t breathe! He thrashed about, trying to escape eventually falling off the bed with a thump that brought him back to his senses and woke him up properly. 

He lay on the floor panting, trying to catch his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. He dragged his fingers through sweat damped hair, pulling on it as he felt the first wave of tears choke up his throat. He couldn't fight the sobs that broke out of him. 

He could still feel the cold air of the pod surround him, reminding him of the time the castle had trapped him in the cryo pod. The dream highlighted all his fears, his fear that his friends would leave him, that they didn't need him. His fear of being trapped and locked away forever with no one noticing. 

“It was just a dream! It was just a dream! It was just a dream!” He repeated angrily to himself between sobs tugging on his hair with each word. It took a few hours before his sobbing stopped, his pulse stopped racing and he could finally calm down again enough to go back to sleep. 

So it bothered him a little, Lance was going with acceptance now because there was nothing more he could do, no way he could argue against it. Yes it bothered him that everyone’s backs had been facing him when he woke up, that they’d allowed themselves to be distracted by something as inane as comparing ticks and seconds when he was in the pod still healing but that didn’t mean they didn’t care. Did it? 

Of course not Lance told himself. It was just a dream, but a dream that kept coming back. 

The suffocating air in the dream grew heavier after the water planet and his fight with Hunk, a fight he had no way of winning because Hunk was being controlled by something else and there was no way Lance could hurt his buddy. It wasn’t Hunk’s fault, Lance didn't blame him in the slightest but in the dream the set of Hunk's shoulders was hard and dangerous, as if he was set to pounce on Lance and fight him again. Suddenly Lance didn't want the Hunk in the dream to turn around. He was afraid. 

When Shiro chose Keith over him, ignored Lance's valid concerns the dream grew darker and more claustrophobic. If Lance moved to just the right angle he could catch a glimpse of dream Shiro's profile and see a derisive sneer on his lips when Lance reached out to him. 

The dream grew more vivid whenever he butted heads with Keith, whenever Keith effortlessly did the things Lance tried so hard to do and in the dream Lance started to hear Keith laugh as he begged them to wait. 

The pain in his body in the dream grew worse after Pidge laughed off his sharpshooter boast and in the dream sometimes she would stop, wait until he could almost reach her before she moved off again. 

And still none of them would turn to face him. Both Allura and Coran were always the furthest away barely even giving a hint that they even knew he was there, as if he wasn’t even worth their time. 

The dream wouldn’t leave him alone until soon enough Lance was afraid to even go to sleep. He couldn’t face it, couldn’t face seeing that dream again, his team mates walking away from him night after night. So he ran away from it. 

It started with long night time walks around the castle long after the others had gone to sleep. He walked in circles traipsing the hallways again and again until he couldn’t walk any more and he fell into his bed too tired to move. It worked for only a few nights before the nightmares started up again. 

So he moved on to keeping himself busy. Tidying and organizing his room again and again moving onto the lounge and the kitchen when it became obvious organizing the meagre possessions in his room wasn’t enough to keep him occupied. Some nights he would clean every single pot, plate and pan in the kitchen again and again until his mind went blank, sometimes he would just arrange things and move things about in the lounge, only to move them back again and again until he fell on the couch exhausted, his mind empty. 

When even that stopped being enough he moved onto the training room going several rounds with the gladiator every night until he was beaten, and bruised, and could barely get up again determined to push his mind and body to the brink of exhaustion to drive the dream out once and for all. But the dream continued to pursue him. 

When fighting the gladiator every night stopped having any effect Lance took to sitting in one of the observation decks instead, staring up at the stars fighting his mind and body, trying to stay awake as long as he could. But he would always fall asleep eventually, and the dream would always find him. 

He was constantly tried, grew sloppy and more prone to mistakes. Prone to Shiro’s disapproval and ridicule from the others which only added fuel to the dreams. There was no escape. 

After another night of falling asleep staring at the stars, waking with a scream as the dream caught him again Lance moved on to wandered the hallways again not really sure where his feet were taking him, not sure if he cared any more. Anything to get away from that dream. 

He found himself in the medical bay in front of the healing pod as if drawn to it by the same magnetic force that dragged him back into the pod in the dream. He stared at the cold metal contraption for a while focusing on his own distorted reflection. The pod was always with him in his dream, he woke stumbling from the pod and got dragged back into it again an again. Even though he was awake he could almost feel the pull he felt in the dream he could see himself being dragged into the pod, see the pod darkening and closing around him trapping him forever. 

He should be afraid of the pod, it was an integral part of his nightmare and he didn't exactly have the best experience with them but in the dim light of the ship at ‘night’ it didn’t look so scary. It was just a pod, a piece of advance alien technology he really didn’t understand, nothing more. He opened it stepping inside the cool space just because he could, because maybe it would help. Maybe if he just faced the pod, proved to himself that it couldn't trap him like that then the dreams would stop. Maybe….

Inside the pod was actually kinda….nice? The air inside the pod was cool, quiet and calm and for a brief moment Lance felt like a breeze being blow across the ocean had washed over him coming from the pod. Lance remembered how when he'd been in the pod he hadn't dreamed, his 'sleep' had been heavy and undisturbed. He longed for something like that and a thought struck Lance, maybe in here the dream wouldn't be able to find him. 

Half in a daze Lance moved about, absently pressing buttons until he’d locked himself inside the pod and started it up. He remembered vaguely how to use it, remembered what Coran had done to get it to work so he wasn’t worried. It would spit him out in the morning no harm, no foul. No one would ever know. 

As the pod started up it began to feel almost warm and welcoming, and his mind felt blissfully blank. It was the last thing Lance was aware of before he was lulled into unconsciousness. 

That night Lance was finally able to rest without dreaming.


End file.
